


All the World's a Stage

by Love_Letter



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion, Rebuild of Evangelion | Evangelion: New Theatrical Edition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Compliant, M/M, Meet-Cute, Rebuild of Evangelion Sequel/Time Loop Theory, Spoilers for 3.0 + 1.0, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, Wingman Mari
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 02:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_Letter/pseuds/Love_Letter
Summary: Shinji meets Mari to have a conversation and gathers the courage to seek out his own happiness.
Relationships: Ikari Shinji/Nagisa Kaworu
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	All the World's a Stage

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Evangelion: 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time on opening night, and while I loved it very much, there were some things I wanted to resolve. There are spoilers within the first chapter of this fic, so if you want to remain spoiler-free, please bookmark this story and come back to read it later. Chapter titles are taken from the lyrics of Utada's "One Last Kiss."

At the beginning of the reborn world, Mari pointed to Shinji’s DSS choker and said, “I can take that off, you know.”

He did not answer her right away, staring off into the rolling waves of the blue ocean, the white noise of their crashing filling his quiet mind. The static silence was like the space between tracks on an old cassette tape. Something clicked. He touched the cool metal of the choker and said, “No. I want to remember.” 

He had forgotten too much. He did not want to forget anymore. He would carry the burden of all he had done over his lives and never take the new life he’d achieved for granted. It was a life given to him by the sacrifices of others, and even if he’d saved them in return, he felt he had not yet paid but a fraction of his debt to them. 

Mari shrugged, “Whatever makes you happy, pup.” She clapped him on the back and smiled. “You let me know if you change your mind.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

The new world seemed to have started as if it had simply continued, as if it had always been the way it was. Filled with the same people, just a little different, lives free of the Evangelion and Angels. Not even a memory of them existed. It was a condition he’d decided, when he created the world. Mari was an outlier. She had brought herself into the world, through her own hands, and so she kept everything. He wasn’t sure he would ever understand what she was, but he accepted who she was— the only other person who knew about the cursed children.

She asked him, sometimes, if he wanted to remove the choker. It was usually after they’d met for dinner and she had one too many drinks. He came to recognize the face she’d make just before asking, her cat’s grin turning into a frown, brow furrowed, eyes fixed on his neck. “Not ready to let go yet?”

“No.” 

* * *

Shinji lived his life. 

He finished school, joined the workforce, and made new connections. Each day he woke up and looked into the mirror, finding a man he’d never had the chance to be in any other world. It was strange, but not unpleasant. He could see his growing resemblance to his father, and while he had long forgiven him and moved on, it was not a face he wanted to see looking back at him. He shaved at the slightest hint of stubble. 

He watched the seasons change and pretended that his mundane life was everything he had ever wanted. He told himself he was content. He ignored the occasional itch under his skin that said something was off, convincing himself it was just lingering insecurities, paranoia from lifetimes of trauma. It would pass. He tried not to think about it. 

His resolve crumbled in moments of weakness: on anniversaries of dates that meant nothing to anyone besides him, on days he was under the weather, on evenings before tight work deadlines, and on nothing more than the whim of the chemicals in his brain. He spent those lonely nights with his fingers on the choker around his neck, combing through his memories and the regrets that haunted him, the pain he couldn’t undo. He wondered about the people he couldn’t forget, how they were aging, and if they’d found peace in the life he’d wished for them. 

He could find them, if he wanted to. He knew their names. 

He hoped they were happy. (What if they weren’t?)

Shinji was happy. (Was he really?)

The years passed. 

* * *

“Hey, Ikari, we’re going for drinks tonight, you in?”

If Shinji had the power to go back and re-write the world again, he would get rid of nomikai. He had not known at 14 the misery alcohol would bring him. Drinking with his coworkers rarely ended well and yet custom made it very difficult to decline the offer. He suffered either embarrassment and hangovers once a fortnight, and when he was particularly unlucky, both. 

“Sure, where are we going?”

“Izakaya by the station. The new girl Ayumi went ahead to grab seats. She’s cute, isn’t she?” 

Shinji turned in his chair to look at the man talking to him. “If you think she’s cute, Hiro, then ask her out.” 

“You know I’m dating Sayuri right now.”

“I can’t keep up with who you date.”

Hirotaka and Shinji started working in the ward office at the same time. He was tall enough to be a basketball player, but he had no interest in sports, and while his stature had intimidated Shinji at first, the pathetic comedy of his giant form hunched over a desk covered in paperwork made him approachable. He was funny. The kind of person to laugh in the face of frustration. Shinji enjoyed his company. 

“This isn't about me. Ayumi was asking about you. She thinks you’re cool.”

Shinji enjoyed Hirotaka’s company, except when he brought up romance. “No.”

“What? Why ‘no’?”

“Dating coworkers is a bad idea.” 

“You just told me to date her.”

“Your track record says you don’t care about bad ideas. I do.” 

“Ugh, fine. I won’t say anything else.” 

Hirotaka indeed kept his words to himself, but his actions spoke volumes when Shinji arrived at the restaurant and discovered he’d orchestrated the last available seat at their table to be next to Ayumi. Shinji decided that after he was _just_ drunk enough to make excusable poor choices, he was going to punch him. 

The small talk was awkward. Ayumi was young, fresh out of college, and clearly had a crush. Shinji did not understand how it happened. He was fairly certain they hadn’t talked beyond self introductions, yet there she was, struggling to make direct eye contact and blushing every time he answered one of her questions. 

“I was thinking I might try some baking classes since I saw a new cooking studio opened down the road,” she was saying as Shinji broke apart the rolled eggs they’d ordered for the table to share, “do you like sweets, Ikari-san?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh.” She paused, “What about other types of food? Did you have something your mother made that you liked in your lunch growing up?”

“My mother died when I was very young. I made my own lunch.”

It was only a partial lie. He suspected his mother was very much alive now, somewhere happily married with his father, but he wouldn’t be able to explain why they didn’t know their own son and retelling the story of a past life was easier. It had the bonus effect of horrifying Ayumi into silence. He accepted a plate of tempura from another coworker and held it under her stunned and guilty face, “Asparagus?” 

She took one and passed the plate on. It gave her enough time to recover. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s fine. I actually enjoy cooking for myself. I wouldn’t want someone else to cook for me.”

He hoped that was a strong enough hint that he wouldn’t be happy if she were to show up at work with an extra lunch for him. He did not want her to waste her effort. 

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?”

There were many things he liked to cook. Trying new recipes had become a hobby of his. He especially liked experimenting with new spices he found at the import store. He told her the most boring thing he could think of, “Soup, I guess.” 

* * *

**Hiro:** Congratulations, you completely destroyed Ayumi’s budding affections for you

[22:48]

**Shinji:** Thank you. Will you stop trying to set me up on dates now?

[22:50]

He watched the dots indicating his friend was writing his response flash and vanish several times. He gave him two minutes before giving up and going to wash his face. After brushing his teeth and changing into pajamas, Shinji checked his messages again. 

**Hiro:** Sorry I keep pushing it. I guess I don’t understand why you don’t like dating as much as I do. I’ll back off. 

[23:01]

Shinji felt something akin to hope that Hirotaka was close to respecting his boundaries. His phone buzzed again with a new message. 

**Hiro:** Wait do you like guys?? It’s ok if you do. I have gay friends! 

[23:18]

Shinji was not having this conversation, especially not with a buzzed coworker via text who was likely still around other buzzed coworkers. He typed back his response (shut up and go to sleep already) and plugged his phone in to charge on his nightstand. With a sigh he fell back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

It wasn’t that he hated dating. It was merely that he found it pointless. In trying to open himself up to new experiences, he’d accepted Valentine’s chocolates and returned the sentiment on White Day. He’d taken girls out to cafes and done what seemed to be the “done thing,” but eventually, the enjoyment fell flat. It felt more for the other person’s sake than his own. 

When he’d shared this dilemma with Mari, her conclusion, like Hirotaka’s, had been to try men. She’d downloaded Grindr on his phone and set up his profile with far too much enthusiasm. He’d opened the app up out of curiosity a week later to find several messages, and after deleting most of them, responded to a few men who seemed nice. He tried those dates too. He went on a half dozen of them before he figured out that men online weren’t looking for the same thing he was; honestly, it would’ve been a surprise if they had been, considering he himself didn’t know what he was looking for. He deleted the app and did not try dating again. 

Shinji turned onto his side, curling in on himself. He brushed his fingertips against the choker with a sigh. The truth was, he knew why dating didn’t work for him, and it wasn’t the fault of the other party.

Were love given a physical state, say liquid, then what each date offered Shinji was a teacup’s worth of affection. It was a well enough amount. If he kept collecting that love and saved it, eventually he’d have enough to fill a tub, and perhaps by the end of his life, the equivalent of a small pond. 

The problem was this: Shinji had once (it was infinitely more than once) received love from another person in such abundance that it could be compared to nothing less than the ocean.

It was no wonder, then, that a teacup felt shallow. 

Kaworu Nagisa had completely submerged him. 

Shinji buried his face into his pillow and tried to push down the regret he knew was selfish. Kaworu had deserved a new life, the right to be free without the weight of yet another end hanging over him. The loops had deprived him of simply _being_. He’d been desperate to make Shinji happy, because to change Shinji’s tragic fate was to change his own. They were mirrors and partners and Kaworu had loved him, loved him across lifetimes, and Shinji had loved him too. It was remembering it all in the riptide of instrumentality that’d ruined him. Their shared consciousness allowed him to understand the role he’d played in Kaworu’s lives and it both deeply moved and alarmed him. He’d reacted by reaching out, to hold him and show his thanks, and by letting go, because he didn’t want his own happiness to be all there was to the person he loved. 

Kaworu deserved more than that. 

(Kaworu deserved to be more than the ocean Shinji could drown in.)

Still, Shinji missed him and the ache of it was slowly becoming unbearable. He needed someone to tell him he’d made the right choice. He had to know if Kaworu was happy. If he could see him one more time, maybe it would reassure him. Maybe he could move on. 

He released his grip on the choker and rolled over to reach for his phone. Mari picked up on the second ring, “Do you realize how late it is? I need my beauty sleep, you know.”

“Sorry, I need your help.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“... I think I’m ready to let go.”

There was silence as she interpreted the meaning of his words. When she next spoke, he could hear the smile in her voice, “Are you free for dinner after work Friday?”

* * *

The way she removed the DSS choker was so _Mari_ that laughter chased away any lingering doubts in his mind about the choice. The wind felt strange against his neck as they ran out of the station, darting across the street as the crossing sign turned red. 

Panting on the other side of the road, Mari pulled her hand out of his and adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder, “Ok, no more running.”

“You’re the one who missed your train.”

“It took more time than anticipated getting ready. I had a vision.”

“For Instagram?”

“ _Of course_ for Instagram, and my blog. I sent you the link to this place, didn’t I? Photo ops galore.” Mari pulled her phone out to check that they were heading in the right direction. “I’ll tag you as my photographer.”

“The last time I was your photographer you rejected all the pictures I took and posted a selfie instead.”

“Hope you’ve improved since then.” 

They were 15 minutes late for their reservation, but thankfully the restaurant had kept their table. Shinji looked at the glossy menu as Mari snapped photos of the art installation closest to their seats. 

“Do you already know what you want?” he asked.

“Yeah, I looked at their menu online.”

He wasn’t surprised. Mari always knew what she wanted. 

“Was there anything else you wanted to try? It’s my treat today,” he said. 

Mari lowered her phone, arching one eyebrow. “Are we celebrating a raise here?”

“No, my salary is still pathetic, but it’s fine. I said I needed help and you came. I want to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Shinji.”

He shook his head. “Let me, please.”

“All right, if it’ll make you happy.”

It was a casual enough phrase, but the words struck a chord in him. He set the menu down and met Mari’s eyes. “I want to talk about that.”

“What?”

“I’m not happy.”

Mari frowned, but before she could speak, their waiter interrupted. 

“Are you ready to order?” asked the young woman. 

“Yes.” Mari pointed at several things on the menu, added a glass of wine, and asked Shinji if he needed a drink. Her tone suggested she expected him to order one. 

“Just water for me.”

“You got it. I’ll be right back.”

Mari waited until their drinks were on the table and then, very pointedly, put her phone away. She gave Shinji her full attention. “Explain.” 

He wouldn’t pretend anymore. 

“I miss Kaworu.”

Mari nodded and gestured for him to continue. Shinji looked down at his hands clasped in front of him. “I loved him.”

“I know.”

“I think I still do.” He chanced a glance up to see her looking at him with sympathy. “Is that wrong of me?”

“Why would it be wrong?”

“Because he loved me too and I- I couldn’t be,” he hated admitting it, “I couldn’t be what he needed. I pushed him away for his sake and now I’m here without him and I regret it.”

He had talked to Mari about it before, back in the beginning when he was trying to make sense of everything, but there were images he could never put to words and feelings that weren’t his to share. Instrumentality had knocked down the walls between his heart and everyone else’s. He had memories that weren’t his own. He understood sadness and longing beyond his personal experiences. It made him a more compassionate person, but it was another reason he’d chosen to let everyone else forget. Because Shinji did not want to be a god, he wanted to be human, and no human was capable of knowing another person’s soul like he did. He hated the feeling of being exposed and assumed everyone else did too. He had saved them the discomfort. 

It was better like this, wasn’t it?

“He’s here too, Shinji. You don’t have to be without him.”

If he couldn’t survive without Kaworu, then he was no different than Gendo Ikari. 

“I don’t want to be like my father.” 

“Your father destroyed the world to regain your mother. You created the world to let Kaworu go. You’re not the same at all. You looked at all the love he had for you, that you easily could have had, and you gave it up because you believed that was best for him.”

“It’s hard to believe I did something that selfless when I’m crying about it now.”

“You’re a better person than you realize, Shinji.” Mari reached across the space between them and laid her hand on top of his. “If you found Kaworu now, and for whatever reason he was completely happy in his own life, you would make the choice to let him go again.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.”

It gave him something to think over as they ate their dinner. Mari moved the topic of conversation onto her work. Since they’d last seen each other, she’d been made the senior buyer of a major department store. It wasn’t a job Shinji had ever really thought about, but it suited her. Mari had a keen eye for details and a knack for knowing what people liked. A jetset life was very much her pace. He wondered if she didn’t so much predict consumer trends as trigger them herself. Shinji lived vicariously through her adventures on social media alongside her 15k followers.

They were onto dessert when Mari brought up Kaworu again. The seasonal parfait between them was an impressive layered display of fruit, ice cream, and granola, topped with whipped cream, ruby chocolate, and edible flower petals. Mari pulled it towards her and began snapping photos as she said, “You should find Kaworu again.”

“I want to.”

“Good.” She pushed her phone across the table. “Now take my picture.”

Shinji took several shots of her smiling with the parfait, digging her spoon in, and offering a bite towards the camera. “I think it’s starting to melt.” 

“Okay, okay.” Mari took the scoop of gold, petals, and ice cream and held it out for him to taste. He leaned forward, and much to her delight, accepted the mouthful. It was good, but absolutely not worth the 3000yen price tag. Why had he volunteered to pay again? 

  
  
They parted ways on the train platform. Mari was going to take the next express back to her place and Shinji was due to depart on the local. Just as his train was pulling up at the station, she reached out, held his face in both hands, and managed to land a kiss on his forehead before he could stop her. 

“I’m proud of you, Shinji,” she said. “Thank you for calling me. I’m always here if you need any more help.”

Shinji pushed aside his embarrassment and hugged her. “Thank you, Mari.”

The train came to a stop, doors sliding open. He stepped back from her and got on board, turning once to wave. Her parting smile gave him hope. 


End file.
